|All the reasons. cough...|
Okay, so there's a certain beefcake element. I will put that right up front and stop dancing around the "I don't objectify people" bush. If I could have Randy Orton all to myself to molest, I would. And while I don't like a mesomorphic body type, in my lonely state, even some of the more muscular wrestlers give me a little fantasy time where I can pretend I'm not lonely and have something to ogle at safely.
Then there's the drama of it all. Part of the entertainment aspect of professional wrestling is the writing, the story line. One of the best story lines the WWE has had in a long time was the love quadrangle-turned-triangle with the now Raw General Manager AJ Lee. It got be hooked back in when I was starting to get tired of wrestling, but I tuned in every week to see what crazy antics AJ would be up to, and now that she's the GM, I want to see what matches she's going to create. Watching big burly men beat the shit out of each other-- unh-- is fine and all, but sometimes you need a little palate cleanser, so why not make those matches mean something, you know?
I think another big thing that helps me enjoy pro wrestling for what it is is understanding that it's fake, and what makes it fake. You see, I used to have a friend who wrestled for Fox Fights (Jade, and it's a sign of how badly our friendship ended that, when I saw the stills for her last video I saw how chubby she had gotten, I laughed) who taught me a lot about pro wrestling. She used to demonstrate "posting" moves, which is one wrestler supporting the other in a big lift or throw, for safety. When you know what to look for, you can spot it all the time. There are times when I think it looks too obvious. She also taught me about oil, and it's here that I would put an example picture of David Otunga from WWE, but Google seems to only want to show me pictures of his wife, Jennifer Hudson. There was a point that he was too oiled up, and someone must have heard me yelling at the TV, because he dialed way back. Too much oil can actually hurt the other wrestler because they can't get a grip. hing
Some things can't be faked, like being hit with a folding chair. Watching Triple H beat the Undertaker repeatedly over the back with a chair in the End of an Era Hell in a Cell match at Wrestlemania had me clenched with anticipation. It was such a brutal match, and seeing the Undertaker, a wrestler that debuted when I was 12, wrestle in probably his final real match ever, was emotional. I'm not ashamed to say I cried when he, Triple H, and Shawn Michaels hugged at the end.
So I watch, every week, twice a week, enjoying wrestling for what it is. I understand it's fake. I get wrapped up in the drama, I ogle, I follow wrestlers on Twitter and Facebook. I yell at the TV. Come September, I'm going to a live event with a friend. And let's not forget in the end, that, while it may be fake, all the good that these wrestlers do with their celebrity.